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Sunday, 16 March 2014

Open Mike: Truisms Can Be Untrue

Olivia Parker, Form and Substance, from the series "Eye and Idea," 1990–96

In response to the "favorite camera" post, reader David Paterson (author of some two dozen thoughtful comments here over the years) wrote the following:

I know it has been said a million times, but the best camera is the one you have with you. There is little point in having a "best" or favourite camera unless a) you own it, and b) you carry it with you as much as is humanly possible.

David's right that this has been said "a million times." It's definitely and distinctly a truism of the public discussion of photography in the Internet Age.

I personally think it's high time, however, to put this one to rest. Although it's neat and simple (which people like), and strict and prescriptive towards others (which people like), and easy and undemanding to conform to (which people like), it's simply not true. Not necessarily, that is.

A lot rides on that word "necessarily," so allow me to restate: it might be true for some successful photographers (David no doubt included), but it is (definitely, inarguably) not true for all successful photographers.

Maybe they just don't work that way. A lot of photographers don't.

Three million, or ten thousand, or ten...OyA little self-referential digression, and I apologize if you've read a version of this before. I kickstarted a daily writing habit when I was in college, after being invited to a breakfast talk with Saul Bellow at Dartmouth just after Bellow had won the Nobel Prize in Literature. In response to a question, either from me or someone else (hard as I try, I cannot recall), he said that the only way to become a writer was to write three million words. After three million words, you'll be as good as you're likely to get, and you'll know if you're a writer or not. Interestingly, this is a variation of the 10,000 hours principle memorably set out in Malcolm Gladwell's 2008 book Outliers: The Story of Success.

I think Outliers is better than its reviews; I believe the reason people don't respond well to it is the same reason why Mr. Bellow's advice was the last thing—the very last thing—my 19-year-old self wanted to hear—it's because we all very much want success to be more accessible to us than that, and we very much don't like to be told that we have to put in those kinds of hours and that kind of effort. The great British book illustrator Arthur Rackham said something remarkably similar, too, when young aspiring artists asked for his advice. He told them they had to work hard for ten years before they could even really know if they were artists at all.

But I digress (from the digression). To continue with my story, I did the arithmetic, and set about my three-million-word task (long since dispatched and done with, by the way).

But in that period, I was asking other people for advice: how do writers write? What's the best way to go about establishing a daily writing habit?

Almost immediately, I was told in very forceful terms that the best way to write was X. And then I asked another person, who said that the best way to write was Y. And I couldn't help but notice, after getting klunked over the head with it in close succession like that, that X and Y happened to be completely different methods, and not compatible.

So I embarked on a little survey. How did famous, successful writers do their writing? And it turned out that...well, as you might expect, everyone was different. In some cases very different. Dylan Thomas decamped to his shed by the seaside every day to (allegedly) write as few as two lines of poetry as his entire day's work. He would (again, allegedly) read his attempts to an illiterate elderly neighbor—and if she couldn't understand what he was on about, he'd start over. Sounds a little "auto-apocryphal" to me, if I may coin a term, but then I'm not a Dylan Thomas expert. The two lines a day sounds plausible, though, because, really, he was going to his shed by the shore to imbibe alcoholic beverages, which evidently flowed much more copiously than the words did.

And speaking of drinking and writing, there was a great American poet (was it Robert Lowell? I can't remember now) who claimed he had to be well lubricated to find inspiration. I used to write while drinking when I was in college, so I liked that guy. Others, however, presumably preferred to write sober—Pearl S. Buck and Isaac Asimov, to begin with, since they were both teetotalers and never took a drink. They got inspired anyway, somehow.

Ezra Pound said you need to put your work before the public to test yourself—but Emily Dickinson didn't do that. Victor Hugo liked to write in the bathtub in the early morning. I have never written in the bathtub—ever. Ernest Hemingway doggedly wrote five hundred words in six hours of work every day (that's not very many words—this post alone contains more than three times that many, albeit not words as pithy as Papa's)—but I think it was D. H. Lawrence whose publisher returned a manuscript to him requesting that he cut 20,000 words only to get it back with 60,000 more words than it had had before. Margaret Mitchell worked on one book for years and years; but Stephen King retired from writing in 2002...and couldn't stop writing! He's kept on churning out books. Can't stop, apparently. Or maybe that's just what he prefers to do in his retirement.

The upshot, of course, is this: everybody's different. There's no one right way to do things.

There's only your right way. And yes, that can be difficult to settle on; and yes, it might take lots of experimentation to find out what it is; and yes, you might have to work very hard along the way toward finding out.

But it's nothing so simple as the trite and pat little truisms that have been said a million times in forums.

So: no. No, the camera you own, or that you have with you, is not always—not necessarily, and there's that word again—the best camera. In fact, I could make a contrary argument: that you need your "real" camera with you when you encounter a good photographic opportunity, because if you have the wrong camera with you you'll waste that opportunity. (That happens to camera reviewers often, I might add. To this one, at least.) If all of your work is 4x5 Portra, say, and you come across a portfolio-perfect scene with nothing but a digisnapper in your pocket, you're toast; you lose. You missed it. The camera you had with you was definitely not "the best" one.

And of course not everybody needs to carry his or her camera with them "as much as humanly possible." Olivia Parker probably doesn't (Olivia, for those of you who don't know the name, is famous for often complicated still life photos which she meticulously assembles and constructs sometimes over long periods of time. The one at the top of this page is simpler than most of hers). Some pros photograph only when they're on assigment; some artists photograph only when they are free to concentrate on the activity 100%, and don't like the distraction when they're doing other things.

Yes, it's true that some photographers should try to carry a camera with them all the time. But what if you're a wilderness and wildlife photographer—do you have to have a camera on your person when you visit Los Angeles to give a lecture? What if your work consists of alternative-process portraits made in a studio with an antique stand camera? Is it really necessary for you to take the 5D with you to the grocery store—in the SUV, with your four kids? Maybe. But maybe not. A street shooter would probably want her camera with her when she's out and about in the city. But Richard Avedon didn't take his 8x10 with him when he went to the toilet, I'll wager.

And since I was speaking about writing, I should add that I don't even recommend The Elements of Style by Strunk and White any more. Although it's delightfully clear, cut to the bone and free of cant, it's also...well, wrong. If everyone wrote like Professor Strunk prescribes, then everyone would be Kent Haruf or Norman Maclean. Not that there's anything wrong with those authors or their wonderful books, but it's only one style. We wouldn't have Dave Eggers or Donald Barthelme or Look Homeward, Angel —never mind Gertrude Stein! And for that matter, a lot of the most pleasing bits of E.B. White himself would have to be pared off, too, were we hewing fastidiously to Strunkian dogma.

A destiny that leads the English to the Dutch is strange enough; but one that leads from Epsom into Pennsylvania, and thence into the hills that shut in Altamont over the proud coral cry of the cock, and the soft stone smile of an angel, is touched by that dark miracle of chance which makes new magic in a dusty world.

These are not sentences of which Bill Strunk would have approved (the opening lines of Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe)

Truisms aren't always true. (Well...except that one.) If you're confident and unconflicted about what's best for you, then that's the right way, and that's that. Maybe you can photograph successfully with whatever camera you happen to have with you—maybe you can't. Or maybe you don't even want to photograph if you have the wrong camera with you. Maybe you should have a camera with you at all times, just in case—but maybe, for you, that would be an utter waste of time, because your real work doesn't have anything to do with shots grabbed haphazardly from here and there as you go about your life.

It's up to you. I'm sure whatever you decide is going to be just fine.

Mike(Thanks to David Paterson)

"Open Mike" is the editorial page of The Online Photographer, which appears only, but not always, on Sundays, and is sometimes but not always off-topic.

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)Featured Comments from:

Dave: "I've had my iPhone with me every second of everyday since October 2011. So far, I've taken only one good photo with it. On the other hand, I totally transformed my portfolio over that same time period using a Canon 5D. The 5D only comes along when I think I'll have time to concentrate on my work."

Eric Brody (partial comment): "Agreed, Mike. I'm one of those people who have succumbed to the 'have a camera with you' argument. Rarely though does an image made while walking the dogs end up on the wall, or even on my web page. I guess, like many, I'm trying to do it all when I should exercise more restraint.I'm a hiker, and I like to hike both alone (photography) and with friends. I should have figured out by now that when I hike with friends, I should not bring a camera beyond a point-and-shoot for documentation, but the pull is still strong."

Michael Perini (partial comment): "I think I agree with Mr. Paterson. While the statement may not rise to the level of 'irrefutable universal truth,' it's really good advice for anyone who values the 'found photograph.'"

[The full text of "partial comments" are always presented in the Comments Section. —Ed.]

Bryan Willman: "Consider also the Wrong Camera Rule. Regardless of what camera you have, you are likely to wish for the one in the closet. As in, you are out with an 8x10, you will want the Leica. You are out with a Leica, you will want the 8x10. You have both, you will want the underwater camera."

David Paterson: "Maybe I should be feeling chastised, but actually it is pretty easy to think of, or construct, exceptions to any given 'rule.' Perhaps I should have started 'If your photography relies at all on seizing opportunities...,' but that idea can be inferred without having to be stated. To use as a counter-argument the idea of Richard Avedon having to take his 10x8 to the toilet is hardly argument at all.

"The camera you have with you is the 'best' one because, in the terms of this discussion, it is the only one (at the time), so when opportunity occurs you do actually have a camera with you. Which presumably you chose for a reason (the best compromise?).

"Some of the photographic genres which rely to an extent on seizing (often fleeting) opportunity include virtually all forms of nature and landscape, 'street' in all its many manifestations, and much of journalism; there will be others besides, I'm sure.

'Of course, few 'truths' can be universally applied, and the fact that a simple (simplistic?) motto is repeated a million times does not make it right. Or wrong."

Mike replies: What I'm saying is that it's not a rule, and that not all photography consists of being ready "when opportunity occurs." I disagree with your examples, except for street photographers: nature photographers, landscape photographers, and journalists go places on purpose to photograph, and they concentrate on photographing when they get there. They're not just chancing across "opportunities" as they go about their business, and many of each type don't carry cameras with them all the time.

Again, though, if it's right for you, then by all means do it. I think I remember reading that Jay Maisel sees photographs all the time and likes to have his camera with him even when he's going out for a bagel, and David Vestal once said he put on his cameras in the morning and took them off at night, just like his shirt. It's right for many people.

John Wimberley, Descending Angel

David A. Goldfarb: "Speaking of angels, John Wimberley's 'Descending Angel' is one of those photographs that seems to favor the truism—large format landscape guy makes his most successful photograph using a 35mm camera with a model in a swimming pool. On the other hand, you could say that a large percentage of his work is really 'made' in the darkroom, so maybe for him, the truism is true."

Kenneth Tanaka (partial comment): "It's true that the history of photography has plenty of lucky-snap trophies on its wall. But it's also true that the wall features overwhelmingly more trophies captured through conceptual and logistical premeditation, even when the end result appears candid. To deploy an even truer truism, 'Chance always favors the prepared.'* And to bastardize another old truism, practice does not always, or even usually, make better. Photography, like writing, is primarily an undertaking of the mind rather than an act of reflex."

[*"In the fields of observation, chance favors only the prepared mind." Louis Pasteur, lecture, University of Lille, December 7th, 1854. A translation from the original French. —Ed.]

David Bostedo: "Nicely written article Mike...this also speaks to a sort of corollary I hear sometimes, which is that a great artist will make great images with any camera. I doubt that's true of most artists. (Although they will tend to take better photos with any given camera than I would, I'd guess.)"

Mike replies: Reminds me of an old story of Richard Avedon's, though I can't cite chapter and verse on this. Seems he was out and about one time, and a couple handed him their snapshot camera and asked him if he'd take their picture standing in front of some monument or other. In telling the story he made some quip to the effect that if he told them who he was he'd have to charge them $5,000. I've always been amused by the idea that somewhere there's a family that owns a unique original Avedon and doesn't know it. I'd be curious to see if it was any better than a snapshot anybody else would take, and if any "Avedon style" is detectable in it at all.

John Camp: "I'll chip in on the writing thing. I occasionally give talks about writing technique, and in a way, Mike's right: everybody's different. But among really successful writers (and I'm talking here of professional writers, as opposed to the large number of academics and experts who occasionally produce a book), there is also a great similarity: they all write a lot. Stephen King, I believe, tries to do 2,000 words a day. If you manage to produce 500 words a day (a fourth of Kind's goal, and perhaps a third of Mike's column above) for 200 days, you'll have written a book the size of the average New York Times bestseller. Two hundred days is what, a bit more than six months? Then, if you spend another five months editing, you'll produce a book a year. I personally write two books a year of that length, and have a goal of 1000–1500 words a day. I have written as many as 5,000 pretty good words in a day. Most best-selling writers do the same thing—they write all the time.

"It's not so much a duty as a compulsion. Writing is not something you do between other things; the other things are what you do between writing. Including eating. My first wife, who I loved dearly, died of breast cancer in 2007, after being diagnosed in 2002. I was intensely involved in care-giving—and during that five years, I never failed to produce a book on schedule. I don't think I was in any way negligent or unfeeling, it's just that that's what I do. I write. And when she was sleeping, I'd be up, working. That's the one thing that amateur writers have a hard time with—understanding how much pure work is involved, and how hard you have to drive yourself. The code here is ASC—Apply Ass to Chair. Work. A lot.

"To bring this back to the original thought behind this Sunday post, I think serious photographers of any kind would do better if they always had a camera with them. When that camera is right there, under your hand, you can hardly help but think photographically, because the camera keeps reminding you. You might ask how that would help, say, a portrait photographer who always works with medium format and lights. Well, perhaps it makes him look at the street light or the bar light on the faces of random people, and that might give him new ideas, and the small camera acts as an aide-mémoire....

"Finally, yeah, I got the joke about wildlife and Hollywood. But, are you all aware of this?"

Andrea: "Finally somebody says this. I made the mistake of believing this sentence and what I obtaind is:

Since I abandoned my film Contax, I have in general been taking more pictures, and worse than before.

I have been carrying around stupid cameras in places where I do not want to use them, with the effect of being annoyed by them and by the act of taking pictures in general.

I spent a lot of money in cameras that can be easily carried around, and now I find myself with cameras that I do not want to carry around in any case.

When I actually do want to take a picture, and I am willing to carry around a camera and spend time and concentration on it, the cameras I own are not really fit for the task, nowhere close to a good, big, old (D)SLR (or bigger) which I do not own any more.

"I am soon going to a shop, dump all the s**t I bought and buy one BIG dslr, one BIG lens, and then actually carry them around when I do want to take, or make, pictures.

"I hate marketing, because it works."

Mike replies: Ansel Adams, when he was asked what kind of camera he used, usually replied, "the biggest one I can carry!"

I enjoyed reading and thinking about your digression about finding your own "right way", but for me it is not so different from "the best camera is the one that you have with you". Actually, to me the latter statement seems very similar to your closing line saying "...whatever you decide is going to be just fine" ("whatever camera you have with you is just fine").

Maybe the reason is that we understand the camera statement differently. In my opinion, THE BEST CAMERA does not really exist, not even my best camera. I believe that I could adjust and get used to many different cameras and by using whatever camera, I am making it the best one for me.

For me, the "truism" about cameras means that the camera is only the recording tool and that photography is more about seeing and the desire to record or create a photograph than about the tool. It is almost like a pen (or keyboard) for a writer. I am sure that many people have a preferred pen, but if you have something to write down any pen will do and is better than no pen at all.

What a wonderful piece of writing. Sharply focused, even for 1500 words (or so), it is the exact right message to convey simply because experience proves it true. Maybe advancing age makes it clearer, I couldn't know its truth decades ago. I have worked at it for 40 years, after only 33 realizing, satori-like, I don't know what I'm doing. The simple key essential knowledge, the actual mark, the quiet sign, finally, arise a master of the profession.

I have a camera with me at all times, though it takes some imagination to call it a camera. It is in a 5 year old NTT DoCoMo cell phone. It sort tends to take blobs instead of photos. I think the blobs are so bad that I could not even pretend something taken with it was an abstract. I have hardly ever used it after trying diligently for a week or so. It is not the best camera for anything, and I'd say I am better off doing a quick sketch with crayons if I need to record something. It is mostly passible for reading QR codes though.

I generally carry a x100 around when I am at work or just casually out with no specific intent to photograph. I could not even call it the best camera if something out of range of the 35mm equivalent lens appears. Yes, I could zoom with my feet. I could get flattened by a truck too. The zoom with your feet is yet another truism that is not always (often?) correct.

Very interesting reflections, Mike. My experience while doing research on people's culture in remote places was that I could *either* have my notebook open, taking notes on the conversation or event, *or* take pictures, but not both. For me, two different uses of same brain, mutually incompatible. So I need to go out intending to photograph, and then I do remember take a camera (and am more or less successful, depending in the first place on whether there is an SD card in the damned thing).

- unfortunately, this sentiment has become a truism in our atomized, individualized, everyone is an expert (and right) society...and it's a killer, because if we believe in this idea then we can forget that our material desires (including the endless assembly line of new and wonderful cameras that we MUST have) are actually constructed by the camera industry and supporting casts (blogs, reviews, etc. Sorry Mike!), and possibly take us AWAY from what is important in photography.

"the best camera is the one you have with you"

- I think you are interpreting this literally - of course if I am in a dark room with a cheap mobile phone camera this statement is not true! But let's try and read this is a mantra, a purist sort of zen philosophical point that hopefully helps us remember that developing your eye, your vision, your photographic "voice" takes time, patience, and maybe....gulp, letting go of our fixation on the importance of say 24,000 iso, or having the newest and latest camera- it's just not necessary.

"The best camera is the one you have with you" may not be a truism, but it's certainly not trite, it is a generative, opening idea...it makes you think and reflect a bit about your practice of photography. "There's only your right way" is a dead end, a closure, isolating, and somewhat thoughtless...somewhat like "to each his own".

Mike, your post really prompted me to write something!
This best camera argument has been repeated 'ad nauseam', but it doesn't work for me. Photography is not a homeostatic impulse to me, and I reckon it isn't to anyone else; I don't feel an unsurmontable urge to photograph when I come across a certain subject: when I want to photograph, I do it becauise I want to create something out of the subjects I look for. I pick the camera and lenses I believe better serve my vision and my creative needs. I don't feel any need to photograph everything I see; actually, I'm extremely selective about the motives I find worth photographing. If I happen to see something worth a shot and the only camera I have at hand is the one in my mobile phone, I don't photograph it. The phone won't fulfill my photographic needs, so why bother? This 'best camera' debate is of no relevance to me.
About writing - you're right, of course. José Saramago, a portuguese author who won the Nobel Prize for Literature, disciplined himself to write one chapter a day. Luiz Pacheco, one of the best and most underrated portuguese writers, used to write episodes of his everyday life, thus composing a diary from which he'd eventually take some excerpts and develop them into short stories. He'd write without any particular discipline, whenever he found some free time.
I am a blogger myself. I started writing about photography out of my need to express myself and mostly due to the paucity of portuguese photography websites and blogs. So far I've tried to write one entry a day and I impose myself writing one and 1/4 A4 pages everyday (in Microsoft Word format, that is). Sometimes I write more than that when I find the time and inspiration to do so. It works for me and I don't really spend that long writing: three quarters of an hour per day is usually enough.
Of course there is no one formula that can suit everyone when it comes to writing. People have different methods, even if the latter mean having no method at all.

I always thought the old truism "The best camera is the one you have with you" might be read in more subtle ways, too.

What if it means: "The best camera" is just a meaningless phrase, it's empty talk, it becomes mere conversation the moment you raise the camera in your hand to your eye. "The best camera" is like baseball statistics or auto specs, because the camera in your hand is the reality, it's the one you have to work to your best ability right here and right now. What if the truism is actually scolding the reader: talk all you want about your wonderful best camera, you'll be judged by how well you wield that camera you're carrying right now.

I have been fighting this truism, as it gets mentioned with greater frequency, because it isn't necessarily true, indeed. the oversimplification now goes from cute to a justification for phoneography to be a justifiable camera because it is always at hand. (it does provide other functions, like taking risks in new areas of photography, like The New Topographics.)

while on a trip, I had to live this correction I have been noting. the reason is that I needed to carry something more flexible than the phone (an X20 it came to be). the quality for most of the situations that I needed to take a photo was not met by the phone's camera capabilities (noise, geometric distortion, wide angle lens).

in a way, the solution came from the need that arose by noting how the camera that I always had with me was inadequate to be best I had with me, rather than the gizmo that was bought by being cool was "there" (an Oly E-P3). I was educated by the need, and not the other way around that "teaches" to have an SLR with a 50mm ƒ1.2 at all times.

Human beings are always looking for simple truisms to believe in. Belief often prevents us from seeing the reality of something. Beliefs, that is really what truism are, very often are prejudicial--preconceived notions of how the world works and how it is supposed to be, that are neatly encapsulated in a few words so they are easily remembered. Most truisms are from other people and some we create for ourselves. It is important to examine the truisms in our lives. For example the civil rights movement and all it flavors (African-Americans, hispanics, women, LGBT, and even animals) has a long history, where people examined examined their truisms and found they just weren't true.

I agree with you about the right camera often being necessary. Indeed, while I have sometimes used the iPhone and got just the shot necessary, more often I forget that the iPhone is the camera I have with me, not remembering it is a camera at all. There is an opportunity cost of grabbing the camera that happens to have a film in it, or taking a small camera because it will be easier. I got used to carrying a rather heavy M5 every day, and now think nothing of walking at lunchtime every day with my M9.

By the way, unless there are two poets called Ted Hughes, he is English, a Yorkshireman I think, and once the Poet Laureate - not that an American can't be that, and at least once he was.

I read somewhere that a writer is just someone who finds it more difficult to write than other people. I do like that.

I don't think it takes anything away from this wonderful essay to note that it seems to be the fruit of a miscommunication.

Now, for all I know, you and Mr. Paterson are communicating perfectly at an intuitive level, but how it reads to me is that he answered a question you didn't ask. For some of us, there's more than a semantic difference between "best" camera and "favorite" camera. Which difference, fortunately, prompted you to consider aloud the idea of "best way", at least in the context of something as personal as inspiration and creativity.

Mike,
Just to let you know that I enjoy the open Mike posts...even if they do have photographic content. I carry around a point & shoot most of the time and don't take very many photos with it. I have lately been thinking of 5x7 or even 5x8 to contact print and yesterday reread you whole plate post. As you alluded to above, not a carry everywhere outfit.
Fred

There has been many times when I wished I had a camera with me, any camera. I've had no luck with my cell phone. However, if I look at my images I like the best, I'd say it was more that I had the right lens than the right camera.

Well, I saw the title of this post, got to the "best camera" truism, and was ready to state all the ways I disagree with that. Then I got finished reading the rest of the post and saw I didn't need to, you already stated why I disagree that better than I could.

In the past, when I carried one type of format with me I'd see many shots that made me wish I had my rangefinder (street), D700 (railroad), 4X5 (landscapes), 645 (still life). I know, you can take a photo of any of those subjects with any of those cameras but it's not how I prefer to shoot. And bringing multiple formats with me when not specifically going out to shoot was impractical. I would get brain overload sorting out all I was observing.

Now when I have one type of format with me I tend to look for shots that fit that camera. If I see something that would make a better photo in a different format I make a note and grab a shot with my cell phone for reference. So a notebook is one of the most valuable tools I always have with me.

I'm not sure the carry everywhere truism is true. Photography requires such a state of attentiveness that it's something you need to just go out and do. Purposefully. And not as an adjunct to your daily business. Sure, there might be the occasional chance encounter. But I'll bet the odds hugely favor those who walk out the door to exclusively photograph. I'd revise the truism to say, Commit time regularly and diligently for nothing but looking and photographing.

I think I agree with Mr.Paterson.
While the statement may not rise to the level of ' irrefutable universal truth'.,--It's really good advice for anyone who values the 'found photograph'
Photography is different than writing. Writing can be done, as you describe, in many different ways. Photography can be approached in many different ways, but at some point REQUIRES a camera.
If your style is one that values the found image, then 'carry a camera' is really good practical advice, and a really helpful mindset (because if you don't consider a phone camera, or pocket P&S camera adequate, carry something better, IF you might like to record a picture should you find one.
The advice is becoming even more true in a practical sense because excellent portable cameras are smaller and lighter than ever.
Is it universally true? No. Is it helpful advice for a LOT of Photographers? I really think so.
Is it made less valuable because Avedon didn't take his 8x10 to the loo? I would say no.
But who knows, perhaps Avedon missed tons of great ones in there and the world is poorer because he failed to heed the advice ; -))
Now, we'll never know, Bummer
Michael
PS, I've just completed some extensive research on many of the acknowledged masterworks of Photography, in nearly every case, the Photographer had a camera with them at the time.

[I'm not sure you're seeing the logical flaw there. While every maker of a photographic masterwork might have had a camera when the photograph was made, it does not follow from that that they always had a camera with them as they went through their lives and their days. --Mike]

While I think the "letter" of the "best camera" aphorism is not strictly speaking always true, I generally buy into the spirit of it, which can be interpreted a few different ways. Examples:

1. You should learn to take good pictures with the equipment you are mostly likely to always be carrying with you, so you can take advantage of opportunities that present themselves.

2. You should learn to carry the equipment that you would most like to use on the routine basis, so you can take advantage of opportunities that present themselves.

3. You should learn to allow apparent opportunities that present themselves to pass you by if you don't happen to have the right equipment with you, and hope that you can get back to them when you do have the right stuff.

4. You should learn the real truth of the world, which is that under most circumstances almost any camera can make a good picture when given the right opportunity, provided you are open to seeing those opportunities.

Obviously there are particular circumstances under which particular equipment is needed (i.e. sports, macro, meticulous still life). But I think many enthusiastic hobbyists get caught up convincing themselves that certain techniques (4x5, zone system, whatever) are central to "their work" when maybe it really isn't true and they could get "their work" done in other ways.

On the other hand, if you have worked and hard to develop your own way of working and resulting visual style, I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you can get the same thing with a pocket camera ... but I will tell you that you should investigate the possibility. It might make you happy.

P.S. While we are at it, can we also attack that "horses for courses" thing? I dislike that one too.

You asked for readers' "favorite" cameras, not for opinions of the best cameras.

And continuously carrying a camera does not necessarily make one a "better" photographer any more than continuously carrying a notebook and pen would make one a "better" writer. (Of course the emotional strength of the ideas made Kodak and Moleskine, respectively, wealthier!)

Yes, it's true that the history of photography has plenty of lucky-snap trophies on its wall. But it's also true that the wall features overwhelmingly more trophies captured through conceptual and logistical premeditation, even when the end result appears candid. To deploy an even truer truism, "Chance always favors the prepared". And to bastardize another old truism, practice does not always, or even usually, make better.

Photography, like writing, is primarily an undertaking of the mind rather than an act of reflex.

Funnily enough, all this talk about favourite cameras made me think of Fay Godwin, whose collaboration with Hughes resulted in one of my favourite books - "Remains of Elmet". Her advice was: "don't get hung up on cameras and technical things".

Right now, 95% of my work is done with a Mamiya 6 rangefinder on black and white film. I sold my Hasselblad at the beginning of 2013 and bought the Mamiya for the very reason Mike discusses here: the 6x6 format was perfect for my work, but I never had it with me except when I had planned out a shoot. It was too damned heavy for my to carry. I've got a lot of health problems and can't carry a heavy bag for vey long before I'm in a lot of pain.

The Mamiya 6 is small and light. The body and all three lenses made for it (50, 75, and 150mm), plus a spotmeter and several rolls of film all fit in a smallish Tamrac messenger-style bag. It is light enough I can carry it all day, everywhere I go. I never miss a shot now; if I see something I can stop and quickly photograph it with my 'best gear'.

I always interpreted that saying as meaning that if you only have one camera with you, then, by definition, it is the best camera you have with you. I never thought it meant to imply that you might not be better off if you had brought a different camera. It also implies that you are better off with any camera than no camera. If you look at it that way, then it is hard to argue that it is not true.

Although it's possible to make a great photograph by chance, (Weegee comes to mind) it's more likely that you'll get that great shot by leaving nothing to chance. The best images start as an idea in one's imagination, and are subsequently created by the visual artist. It sometimes involves a great deal of sweat to remove the inertia of creativity - but the resultant art is often worth it.

Isn't this the same thing as the lottery truism: "If you don't play, you can't win." Duh!

Same thing with the camera. If you see and want to take a shot, you have to have a camera (or some kind of "image capture device") with which to take the shot. Seems like a truism to me, but then I tend to not make things more complex than they appear.

My "carry everywhere" camera is an Olympus mju II (Stylus Epic in your part of the woods); even in a case it fits easily into my walking jacket pocket, and it has a really nice, sharp 35mm lens. And it's full frame! One day there should be a full frame digital camera nearly as small...

The problem with the Bellows/Gladwell dicta is that they confuse quantity with quality - a 'fatal' error. They also ignore differences in all the other factors which affect quality and learning. Mentoring, or lack of it, competent feedback and evaluation, differences among people in cognitive style, and (for this forum) kind of photography done, etc., etc. These things make such dictation essentially useless.
And Terry Letton, "wildlife near L.A.?" It depends on what you call "wildlife"....

Just had the same conversation with the wife, and having looked over my pictures from the past two years, I can safely say that the number of photos I took while on these non-photographic walks is fewer than 20, and a grand total of zero has ever made it beyond the scanning stage (I'm mostly a film photographer). I have, however, managed to upset the wife countless times, camera in one hand and unable to help with the groceries and baby without much maneuvering.

Mike,
Re 'I'm not sure you're seeing the logical flaw here....."
The P.S. was tongue -in-cheek which I (mistakenly) thought would be obvious from my "extensive research' comment. It was meant to good naturredly underscore the fact that if you want to make pictures you need a camera, (so if you're inclined toward found pictures, carrying one is good advice) I do understand that many great photographers may choose not to carry one. Which is fine with me too.
Thanks,
Michael

From a comment: "nature photographers, landscape photographers, and journalists go places on purpose to photograph, and they concentrate on photographing when they get there."

Actually, I take what catches my eye when out with the dog and call it either `landscape' or `nature' accordingly. Point being, not all photos in those genres arise from people getting their fix of Outdoor Photography magazine's prescribed way of doing it.

I agree with the general tenor of comments that there is conflation of opportunism versus someone's "primary work", both in the original maybe-truism and in your discussion of it.

> Or maybe you don't even want to photograph if you
> have the wrong camera with you.

That is my problem. I carry a very capable iPhone everywhere and have no problems getting the best out of it technically but it doesn't give me the look I want and the process of taking a picture with it offers no pleasure. I can't quite explain why and only realised recently how unusual this is but I don't see it changing at the moment.

For years, I carried a DSLR with me everywhere; I've done it less over the last few years but am back to the habit now and much happier!

Bryan Willman,
There is a solution to your dilemma of "As in, you are out with an 8x10, you will want the Leica. You are out with a Leica, you will want the 8x10. You have both, you will want the underwater camera."

The solution for you is a Leica S which Joel Meyerowitz says has replaced his 8x10, is very water resistant* and is a Leica.

*I have accidentally found it water proof to a depth of 10 inches, but would not volunteer to take it down to 30 feet.

"Chance favours the prepared mind" famous quote ( or a variation of that ) by Louis Pasteur, ( 19th century French microbiologist ). Perhaps you can have your camera with you at all times but if you are not "prepared" for the "shot" then you will miss it no matter what camera you have.

Being "a photographer" continues to not be one "thing". I'm reasonably confident that there isn't "one true way" to do any given single "kind" of photography -- I'm absolutely certain that there isn't one true way to do photography in general.

If your goal is documenting your life, which is what draws a lot of people into photography (including me), then having a camera around for when things happen is important. But even if one started there, that doesn't remain an important goal for everybody.

I find it frustrating to be wandering around and see something kind of striking, and not be able to try to capture it. And photos I've taken on that basis have sold as large prints.

Some people see more "great" images then they can possibly take, process, or sell, and have to force themselves to take time off, either to avoid working themselves to death, or to avoid flooding their market with images and driving their fans into choice paralysis.

This may tie back in to photojournalism having been the high-status bit of the profession when I (and my generation) was a teenager. It's not just "F/8 and be there"; it's "be there with your camera at f/8."

As an outlier in several fields, myself, and having many, many friends who also are, I consider Gladwell's 10,000 hour thesis to be entirely bogus. Sure, there are cases where it is true. One can certainly cherry pick examples to find that. But, as a wise person once pointed out, the plural of anecdote is NOT data. The 10,000 hour thesis is demonstrably not valid for the majority of such people I know. The amount of time it takes to acquire masterful skill runs all over the map. Vis, the column I wrote about how many hours I spent on dye transfer:

For readers who don't want to have to wade through it, the pertinent information in this case is that I was arguably in the outlier class after 1200-1500 hrs. of practice and I most assuredly was by 2500 hours. (People might want to, though, check out Kevin Purcell's comment at the end of the comments section, as it references studies that nicely debunk Gladwell's silly notion.)

Conversely, it wouldn't surprise me if it doesn't take 20,000 hours or more for some people to achieve that status. The question being, of course, do they have the stubbornness to stick it out that long. Which I'll get back to in a moment, because I think that's the central issue.

In the same vein, Mister Bellow's advice applies to very, very few of the numerous successful authors I know. I *might* be willing to believe 1,000,000 words. I could reasonably be convinced of 500,000. 3,000,000, though, is ridiculously large.

But, I think in both his and Gladwell's case, they're confusing correlation with causation. If I were to make a wild ass guess, I would say what's really going on is that if you don't enjoy a particular craft enough that you wind up putting in huge amounts of time and energy on it, then it's not the craft for you. (At least, not the one you're going to become an outlier/master of.) If the idea of spending, oh say, 2000 hours on a particular “hobby” or writing 500,000 words feels exceptionally burdensome, well, you're in the wrong endeavor.

And, so far as that 19-year-old mentality goes, the principle certainly applies–– 2000 hours feels as daunting as 10,000 at that age!

This reminds me of that old nonsense about people doing their best work when they're young, which you so nicely trashed back in this column:

What's behind all of this? My wild ass guess is that it's the near-superstitious human belief that there is some “secret” to success. Whether it's the secret numbers that will let you win the lottery, the perfect diet and lifestyle that will let you live to be more than 100, or the discipline that will let you become an outlier.

As someone who makes use of this quote a lot, I have finally been provoked into making my first ever TOP comment. I'm not claiming it's an universal truism, but I do think it can be useful sometimes.

1. I see friends and family who want to take better photos so they buy a dSLR, perhaps with a twin lens kit, and then also a camera bag. But the fact is that this camera kit is large, and over time is used less and less, and mostly gets left at home. I use the quote you're commenting on to push them towards MILC or something like an RX100. It will take better photos than a P&S and it will be used much more often.

2. For more serious photographers, fact is you can't always know when you will have the opportunity or inspiration for some serious photo time, a MILC kit can be with you pretty much always, in ways that my big black dSLRs and big black lenses can't. I don't think that my X-T1 and a few lenses sacrifices anything to the big black kit in most situations.

Of course an RX100 won't substitute for a 4"x5", but my X-T1 will substitute for my D3s in all but the lowest light, and my brother's NEX-6 will take better shots that the twin lens dSLR kit that he would have left at home.

To Richard Newman I suppose I committed a divided middle fallacy but I didn't think it necessary to append :) to make my intentions clear.
As an amateur photographer I find it very helpful to carry my camera bag in my truck pretty much all the time. My portfolio is greatly enhanced by the shots that I otherwise would not have gotten if I hadn't been able to take advantage of special conditions. The light oesn't come back for you on Saturday morning if you missed it on Tuesday. That doesn't mean much to a studio bound unless he is itching to expand his "personal work"' but I'll bet most of the do.
.

The best camera I carry with me are my eyes. I don't always use them because my brain needs to be engaged for them to work photographically. When that happens it is then that I think that I should return for another moment when the light is better with the other camera: tilt-shift-lensed and tripod-mounted. Without both those cameras that shot will never happen.

I think it really depends upon where you are in your development as a photographer. It takes some people a long time to develop an eye for what interests them, understand how to capture with the camera what that see, etc. - lots of deleted photos and fits and starts. At that point, I think that the most important thing is just to have a camera with them and to use it. As we focus our interests that is not so important or relevant - discovery is replaced by planning, technique, etc.

Funny, but I've always thought that the "best camera is the one you have with you" to mean that you should stop daydreaming that if you just had the latest and greatest and newest camera, why then your picture would surely be better. Shoot more with what you already have and only consider your 'dream camera' if;

1. You can afford it and like to play with new toys. (Hey, it is your disposable income)

2. It will keep you from going insane because the 'camera you have with you' is just not able to do the type of photography you have in mind. (At least not very well.)

If your pictures are bad, dull and pointless then getting your dream camera probably just ain't going to help.

The anecdote that depicts Dylan Thomas checking the clarity of his prose/poetry with an illiterate washer-woman was also told on the Tang Dynasty Buddhist poet Bai Juyi (772–846). Auto-apocryphal, indeed.

We should be careful not to worry too much. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we'll forget the camera at home, or be looking the wrong way or something, and we'll miss a great shot, thus failing to add to that 10,000 hour (or 20,000 hour or 2,000 hour) mental database of experience. You don't have to cram "meaning" into every last minute of your life. That kind of performance anxiety might be counter-productive.

"In fact, I could make a contrary argument: that you need your "real" camera with you when you encounter a good photographic opportunity, because if you have the wrong camera with you you'll waste that opportunity."
So true. I carry with me my "real" camera 5-6 days a week (is a mirrorless that can be carried in a little discreet shoulder bag), and I carry my smartphone 10 hours a day. If I encounter something that make my brain say "That's it!", but I only have the phone, I simply don't take the shot - not because the phone result could be "worse", but I've customized my camera to take a shot in MY way. A thing that I cannot do with the phone - and invariabily, the phone shots are something that I feel "extraneous" to me...

A few of my strongest photographs, and to my surprise, were taken with the iPhone 4S. Invariably with plenty of light, and I am hard pressed to tell the difference with images made with larger sensor cameras, even in larger prints.

I find that I see more and see more possible photographs whenever I have a camera with me. And as it is for many of us, I see different things in part due to the camera and lens at hand.

I agree with the other posters who wrote about the value of all the practice photographs we take over the years when we have a camera with us. Practice of many kinds. That includes for me photographing the same small area I walk past a couple of times a week, with features that change greatly with wind conditions, time of the day, and the weather above it, an area I have made more than a thousand of pictures of now: they are at once found images and evolved images.

"It is an old observation that the best writers sometimes disregard the rules of rhetoric. When they do so, however, the reader will usually find in the sentence some compensating merit, attained at the cost of the violation. Unless he is certain of doing as well, he will probably do best to follow the rules." -- William Strunk Jr.
(This is one of Strunk's insights that compels me to continue recommending Strunk & White.)
As for the statement, "the best camera is the one you have with you," we could write an explanatory paragraph to help readers use the idea to improve their photography without mistaking it for an eternal law. Perhaps Professor Strunk will help us reduce the paragraph to a pithy statement that will catch on like, and then supplant, the original statement. ;)

I have many many cameras. I don't seem to be able to sell the old ones. I use most of them from time to time. I spent more than 2 years using the iPhone exclusively. After 45 years of photography what did I learn from the iPhone about photography? Well, everything. Absolutely everything. My iPhone images are images of my life. They have substance and meaning and, frankly, many are very good. I also learned that very many photographers spend enormous sums on technological marvel cameras. They then complain about the tiniest minutia and go on to produce technical masterpieces that correctly follow every rule of photography and at best are glossy copies of images that frankly have been done to death. Images that have no meaning other than as technical exercises. The camera truly does not matter. The iPhone is easily the best digital camera I've owned.

Ok, I get it: yes it's fully possible that I'd become a much better photographer if I were carrying a camera with me at all time. And using it. Even though it's not "my thing".

The trouble is: I'm a hobbyist. I photograph for fun. And if I were forcing me snapping pictures this way, the odds are that i'd get bored and change hobby sooner rather than later.

So thank you, Mike. Thank you for helping me shed the last ounce of guilt for failing at taking a camera with me everywhere! You wrote it masterfully: it just doesn't suit everybody.

(Like Andreas from the featured comments, I have a drawer full of small/smaller/smallest marvels that I positively dislike using. It's not even the IQ, which gets better all the time, it's... all the rest!)

When I went to live in Germany for a while, I carried a point-and-shoot 35 mm camera with me wherever I went. Once in a while, I would take a great photograph (to me) with it, but usually by serendipity.

So at some point I signed up for a beginners photography class at the local Volkshochschule (sort of adult education classes) to increase my probability of serendipity.

We bombarded the teacher with all kinds of questions, and it seemed as if the first words out of his mouth were always, "it depends."

I came to realize this was a good (and easy) answer for everything in life.

"What's the best camera?"

"It depends."

With that said, having a good camera certainly increase your chances of a good photograph. Having your camera with you increases your chances infinitely (over not having one). And having an extra camera for your wife increases your odds of a more harmonious life, while decreasing the odds of fighting over who took the really good shot.

It's an idea that's obviously very attractive to those who need or want to advocate for recent technology improvements increasing camera mobility, such as smaller cameras, image stabilization, and high ISOs.

So ... now I'm trying to figure out what camera trend you're secretly trying to promote with this post ... ;)